Mike Scott took a good look at himself in the mirror. As always, he scrutinized every part of his face. After all, he was going to be on TV, and there was no point going out there looking like a hobo.
As he smoothed his hair, a voice from above his head startled him. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Wha?” Mike exclaimed, looking behind him in the mirror to see if maybe somebody had wandered into the locker room. Not seeing anybody, his attentions again focused on his carefully-crafted fauxhawk.
Again, a voice cried out, “Ouch! Don’t touch me!”
“Yo, whoever’s talking better shut the hell up,” Mike yelled. “I’m in the middle of something important.”
“No, you idiot, it’s me, your hair,” said the voice, which did indeed seem to be coming from his hair. “Would you stop poking me and just listen for a second?”
Startled at his scalp growth’s newly-found sentience, Mike gawped stupidly at the mirror. He watched for some kind of mouth or opening to appear on his hair, but there was nothing of the sort as it continued to speak. “Thanks. Normally I prefer not to come to life like this, but this is pretty important. Ears up, dude.”
“Yeah, I’m listenin’,” Mike affirmed. “I have no idea why though. I think I’m losin’ my marbles.”
“Marbles or no marbles, this is something you need to know. Your three point stroke is going to be pure tonight. Make sure to use this knowledge to your advantage,” his hair said.
Face contorted in disbelief, Mike responded, “How would you know anything about my shooting? You’re just a bunch of velcro-ey strands on my head.”
“Hey, being up here by your brain has its benefits. Just trust me on this one. If you get the ball outside the arc, there better be a shot going up.”
Part of Mike was reluctant to take instructions from his hair. But the other part liked the idea of taking a lot of threes. “I guess I can try it out. The worst coach can do is bench me, and since we’re short on bigs, he’d just put me back in anyway,” Mike agreed. “Can I finish fixing you now? You’re looking a little lopsided.”
His hair had no response. The intelligence within it seemed to have vacated the premises. Taking that silence as a yes, Mike resumed his preening. But in the back of his mind, he never forgot those words of advice.